Papa Don't Preach
by caffeineandcrayons
Summary: Three times Mr Anderson fails to connect with his youngest son, and one time he succeeds. Klaine.


**Papa Don't Preach**

**A/N**: In my head, Mr Anderson is a cross between Modern Family's Phil Dunphy and my own dad; a nice guy who tries hard but doesn't always make himself clear.

**Summary**: Three times Mr Anderson fails to connect with his youngest son, and once he succeeds. Klaine.

* * *

**#1 The time Blaine came out.**

James Anderson was losing his youngest son.

He could see it happening, as clear as day, and he had no idea what to do about it. It was as if every day Blaine was getting further and further away, spending less and less time at home with his family. There was always some excuse to stay out as late as possible- there were glee club meetings or he was studying in the library or he was having coffee with friends.

James gloomily recalled the time when Cooper had acted the same way, back when he was sixteen. Well, not _exactly_ the same way. Cooper had been a lot worse, and while James could sort of always believe Blaine was where he'd said he'd been, he always knew Cooper had been out trying to buy cigarettes and sleep with college girls.

He loved both his boys the same, he really did, but Cooper had always been the wild one with no common sense, always getting into trouble while Blaine… He had expected better things from Blaine, who was by nature calmer and more focused than his brother.

He first began to feel the growing distance between them just before Blaine's fourteenth birthday.

Carrie, his wife, had called him when he was at the office. He could tell by the tinny echo of her voice that she was at work too, on loudspeaker at the labs. "I got a call from Blaine's school. He's been. Fighting." She said the words slowly, carefully, in an attempt to control her rage.

"He's what? But he's- he wouldn't. He-"

"That's what I told the principle but apparently he would. He has. He's being sent home to 'think about his behavior' and want to know if we could pick him up."

"You want me to go?"

"Please. I'm up to my arms in questionable bodily fluids. Literally, I have no idea what this guy had."

When James had first met Carrie, she was in her final year at college studying biochemistry. Twenty years later, she was now a coroner. And yes, she might be one of the leading experts in diagnosing deaths caused by mysterious and unhygienic sounding diseases, and yes James was incredibly proud of his wife and her intelligence, but he really, _really _didn't have the stomach for hearing about the gross parts of her job.

"Ah. Right, yes. Of course. I'll- I'll go get him now then."

"Thank you. I'll try to be home on time."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you too." The line clicked dead.

In both the principal's office and in the car on the way home, Blaine remained uncharacteristically silent. He just sat there, sulkily avoiding eye contact with a bruise already turning a nasty shade of purple on his cheek and dried blood around his nostrils.

James had tried. He really had. He had tried every trick in the book to make him talk. He'd tried being stern and angry and he'd even tried raising his voice to get a reaction, when all he really wanted to do was give his son a damn tight hug and ask if he needed a band aid or some antiseptic cream. He'd tried being reasonable and understanding and explaining that he knew most boys get into fights, and all Blaine had to do was tell him _why_? He'd tried staying quiet and patiently waiting for Blaine to speak on his own. None of it had worked.

Eventually he'd settled for a sigh of "Just wait until your mother gets home."

At this at least, he received a deeper scowl for his trouble.

At six o'clock, when Carrie finally arrived, James couldn't help but feel relieved. She had always been better at this than he had. He liked to think of himself as what is universally known as 'the fun parent'. He was in charge of bedtime stories and ice cream sundaes and sitting at the computer at 5am on _Ticketmaster _so he could buy Katy Perry tickets for the two of them before they all sold out. Carrie was in charge of homework and report cards and teaching the importance of a balanced diet. Whenever Blaine (or Cooper) had done something wrong and James had tried to scold them, it had been futile but they _listened_ to their mother. And whenever Carrie tried to take them out paintballing or whatever they only regarded her with suspicion. It didn't mean either of them were bad parents, James hoped. It was just the way they worked as parents.

So it was no surprise that after just a few minutes of Blaine being questioned that he cracked.

"They started it! I wouldn't have but they- they-"

"They what?" Carrie snapped.

Blaine slumped back on the couch, seemingly realizing that resistance was pointless. "They… They say stuff."

"What 'stuff''?"

Blaine shrugged, and gave his parents a small, humorless smile. "Just stuff. They don't like me. That's all."

"How can they not like you?" It was a moment before James realised how stupid that sounded, even in his own ears. But he meant it. How could anyone not like _Blaine_? The kid could dance like Justin Timberlake and sing like Simon Le Bon, no, better and James liked to think they'd raised Blaine to be a generally _nice_ kid.

"They just don't, Dad. Jocks have anger issues, I guess."

"They had anger issues when_ I_ was at school, that's something that never changes. But I never got into any fights." James replied.  
"That's because you're not me."

"Why? What's the _difference_, Blaine?" James exhaled, long and hard through his nose. "We just want to know what's happened, so we can help."

And with a shaky, not-quite tearful breath, Blaine told them.

James had expected a thousand different reasons. He had expected perhaps, Blaine to confess, rather embarassed 'They think I use too much hair gel' or 'they're jealous I got the lead in this year's production'.

He had certainly not been expecting Blaine to confess "They don't like me because I'm gay."

"You're… What?" Had he misheard?

"Gay, Dad. I'm gay."

It's still hard to believe the second time he heard it.

There's a guy called Ted who works in James' office who's gay. He's a nice enough guy although James doesn't know him very well. But he was a God send the previous week when Sandra from the first floor was hysterical because her boyfriend broke up with her. Ted helped her re-do her make-up and everything. It was pretty incredible, actually.

James had spoken to Ted about his parents once and he'd said that coming out to them had been pointless since they already knew. There had been signs, they said. Like how he'd spent more time on his appearance than other kids and how when he was little, he'd always wanted a tiara more than a motorbike helmet.

But Blaine? He couldn't think of any signs like that. Yes, there was the bow-tie and capri pants thing, but that was hardly tiara standard. And yes, he did take excruciating care when styling his hair but that was understandable, the boy had some serious curls to control.

James wanted to say 'okay, cool. I don't understand it really, but okay.' Because it _was_ okay. And if he was anything like Ted he'd be great with helping his mom with things like fashion advice and emotional support, or whatever.

But before he could say anything, Carrie spoke. "Blaine, please go to your room. Your dad and I need to talk."

James caught the look on Blaine's face as he left the room. Like she'd just slapped him. James wanted to call after him 'Don't mind your mum, you know how she is. She spends too much time with dead people, she just forgets sometimes that living people are more sensitive.' But he can't. It's an unspoken parental law that you have to show a united front to your children, you have to be on their side.

As soon as they hear Blaine's feet getting to the top of the stairs, Carrie gave him an odd look that he isn't sure how to interpret and she said, calm as a jade Buddha "This is your fault."

"My fault?!" he spluttered.

"Yes. You're the one encouraging him to mince around thinking he's Buddy Holly. I swear to God, James you shouldn't have taken him to all those Spice Girls concerts when he was a little kid, he-"

She froze. "What if it's my fault. Tell me honestly. James. Did I leave too many Vogue issues lying around? Oh my God, I did. Clearly I should have been more… More…"

"Carrie."

"What?"

"It's okay." He closed my hand around her forearm and she just stared at a patch of their patterned wallpaper, as if it held all the answers of the universe.

* * *

**#2 The time Kurt came over**

James knew it would happen eventually. In the same way Cooper had brought girlfriends home to meet them (or more accurately, tried to sneak them out of his bedroom at God only knows what time in the morning), James knew that one day, Blaine would bring somebody home.

He never knew what to say to Cooper's girlfriends. It pained him to admit it but he wasn't young any more, he just didn't know how to make small talk with teenagers and girls were strange creatures. He hoped that it would be easier to talk to a _boy _Blaine brought home because once upon a time he had been a boy himself, and after raising two sons as well, he was sure they could manage a decent conversation.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

The boy who sat next to Blaine at the kitchen table, surrounded by a pile of French text books, was not like James had been when he was a teenager. Neither was he endearingly boisterous like Cooper or boyishly charming like Blaine.

Instead he sat rather primly, legs crossed, dressed in a pale cowl necked sweater James wasn't entirely sure he hadn't seen in the women's section the last time Carrie had dragged him into Ralph Lauren. As he stood at the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee from the pot, he could smell hairspray and soap, just like he had when Cooper's girlfriends had been hanging around.

It was…. Odd.

The boy smelled like a girl and dressed like a girl and sat like a girl but he so clearly _was not a girl_. He was tall, with the sharpening jawline and broadening shoulders of a boy descending into manhood.

But he wasn't _camp_ like Ted from the office. Ted had this strangely swaggering walk and made huge, sweeping hand gestures. This boy moved like a cat, perfectly poised. 'Regal' was the word that first sprang to mind.

Either way, James got the feeling that talking about comfortable things like football and cars was out of the question.

"So, Kurt." James sipped his coffee and leaned back against the counter just in time to see the poor kid jump out of his skin. Poor kid, nervous to meet the boyfriend's parents, he guessed. "Do you go to Dalton too?"

The boy nodded. "I enrolled a couple of months ago, yes."

"Oh," It wasn't hard for James to imagine why the transfer was so recent. He still dreamed some nights of Blaine's face after the Sadie Hawkins dance; his expression of wide eyed betrayal and _hurt_ that his so-called friends could be so cruel was almost more disturbing to his father than his split lip and cracked rib. "How are you settling in?"

"Fine, thank you. Blaine- Blaine's been really good taking me under his wing like this." At this, his eyes flitted to Blaine's face, and no that expression did not belong specifically to either a girl or a boy. It was the quick, lingering, shy, hopeless look of somebody, any member of the human species, who was completely and totally besotted with another.

Blaine shrugged and sat lazily back in his chair. "Don't be silly, Kurt. Who else would I do my French homework with?" Obliviously, he didn't look up from his notes.

_They're not together_. James realised suddenly. _Blaine doesn't have a clue this kid has it bad for him_. And if it hadn't been for the way Blaine said the other boy's name, like he was trying to hold it in his mouth for as long as possible, James would have thought that attraction was one sided.

How the Hell could he raise such a smart kid, with a private education, when he didn't even seem to notice someone's blatant interest right next to him?

"So you uh, from Westerville then?"

"Lima." Perhaps sensing James was trying to make conversation he added "My dad runs a garage over there."

"Oh right, great." Remarkably, he seemed to have stumbled on a safe topic. "You drive over here?"

"Yes." Maybe not, then.

Feeling awkward, particularly now Blaine was looking at him with one dark eyebrow pointedly raised as if asking _What the Hell are you doing Dad_? James decided to leave them to it.

"Well, make sure you two don't stay up too late, okay?"

Blaine was still eyeing him suspiciously, like he was trying to figure out his game. "We won't, Dad."

As he made his hasty retreat with his cup of coffee, James sort of wished for the very first time that Blaine was straight because Hell, even talking to Cooper's girlfriends had been easier than that.

* * *

**#3 The time with the car**

The 1976 Mercedes-Benz made James' spine tingle with excitement, or possibly exhaustion since he had to push the damn thing into their garage.

It might have been a nice car in its heyday; with its leather seats, thin steering wheel and clean, sleek body. Now it was just a mess. Something, he had no idea _what _exactly, had clapped out making it impossible to actually drive off the pavement, making it emit thick black clouds from the exhaust pipe when he tried and he was pretty sure he could hear hissing from under the bonnet. One of its wing mirrors was missing the glass and frankly, James found its lack of CD player baffling.

It was _perfect_.

It was a solution that killed two birds with a single rusty stone. He had no idea how to fix up cars and he knew Blaine didn't either. It'd be a brilliant way for them to bond, learning a new skill, getting their hands dirty together. James was also certain it'd improve Blaine's love life. He remembered Kurt saying his dad owned a garage in Lima. What could be more impressive to the kid, than Blaine cruising up in a vintage car he had restored himself? So they'd get closer too, which in turn would make James and his youngest son even closer still because Blaine would be grateful for his dad suggesting they do this.

Blaine seemed far less impressed.

Still in his uniform and fresh from school, he stood at their garden gate, staring through the open garage door at the heap of once-flashy vehicle and his dad stood beside it, grinning like a maniac. "What's that?"

"This. Blaine, is your new car." He rapped the windscreen lovingly with his knuckles. The rear view mirror creaked and dropped into the foot well. "Well, it will be once we've cleaned it up a bit!"

Blaine tucked his hands guardedly into his blazer pockets. "Does Mom know you bought this?"

James tried to suppress his wince at the thought of what Carrie would say to him when she got home. "Never mind that. Don't you think this would be something fun to do with your old man, especially after your friend Kurt coming round last week."

Oddly, Blaine didn't look so happy. Instead he seemed a little stunned, but not in a good way. More in an _are-you-serious_ way which involved wide and sorrowful dark eyes (he got that from Carrie) and a twist on his lips like he had smelled something unpleasant. "You…"

"Don't give me that face! It'll be fun." James said, trying to remain jovial.

Blaine trudged up the driveway to mournfully survey the car. "Thanks. But I don't know anything about cars. You know that, Dad."

"That's the point!" cried James, "You and me, right? Father and son on an epic mission to learn the secrets of mechanics!"

Boy, could that kid raise his eyebrows. "Dad." Blaine said it as if he was talking to a child, as if their places were completely reversed. "This isn't going to work. And nobody even says 'epic' anymore."

The front door slammed loudly after him.

Still in the garage's doorway, James sighed and leaned back against the bonnet,_ carefully_. Oh. Okay. So cars were a touchy subject then.

_Maybe he had a fight with Kurt or something_?

Well. All the more reason to try harder.

* * *

**#1 The time Blaine went to Prom**

Blaine going to the senior prom as Kurt's date was something that nobody in the house spoke about out loud even though all three of them were thinking about it.

Carrie was quiet and irritable which meant she was worried. She had every reason to be. The last dance Blaine had gone to outside of Dalton was that damn Sadie Hawkins one, and nobody needed to be reminded how that had ended. And that had been when Blaine was single. Now he was going to a prom with a boy, his _boyfriend_, who was so openly gay that aliens peering down from their hovercrafts must know it.

For his part, James was also anxious and reluctant to speak about it. When he tried to voice his reassurances to Carrie she had almost bitten his head off, snapping at him about it not being a good time to talk. And whenever he tried to talk to Blaine, even in a friendly, casual way, the kid seemed to take it as a personal attack. In the end, it was best for James to just stay silent.

His problem was connecting with Blaine was not going away, no matter how hard he tried or what he did to try and fix things. It was like everything only made it worse. They had gotten the Mercedes-Benz up and running weeks ago. Still, it sat in the garage gathering dust. Blaine refused point blank to drive it. "I don't need it." He said and stubbornly stuck to bus rides and letting Kurt drive him back and forth to Lima.

The final straw though, was Blaine with his suit in a bag, leaving the house without so much as a 'goodbye' to get ready at Kurt's house. _What's wrong with this house?_ James wanted to whine, but Blaine was gone before he could even open his mouth.

For the entire six hours Blaine was out of the house, James paced the rooms of the house that wasn't good enough to keep Blaine in it, and thought about what he was going to say when he got home. He was going to be the firm not-fun parent for once. He was going to demand answers for things he should have asked months ago. Carrie watched him as if he was madman before eventually giving up with a shrug and going to bed.

By the time he heard Kurt's car pull up outside the house, James had collapsed onto the living room couch. Most of his frustration had been drained by imagined arguments and sheer emotional exhaustion. He had run through every conceivable possibility for Blaine's attitude and not one of them made sense. In the end, all he could do was wait.

He hauled himself out of his seat and headed outside to meet them.

Blaine was already out of the car, standing on the road beside Kurt's open window, leaning down so they could talk for a little longer, their faces an inch away from a kiss. Blaine's hands were curled around the half lowered glass, as if he was desperate to stay there. Their soft laughter seemed louder in the deserted street and James had the uncomfortable feeling he was intruding on something personal and secretive.

"Blaine,"

On hearing his father's voice, Blaine straightened a little to meet his eye over the car roof. His smile had vanished.

Under the dull orange glow of the street lamps, James finally felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Blaine, despite his sudden mood change, seemed to be perfectly fine. There wasn't a single scrape on his face, his gelled hair had remained neatly in place, his tux with the uncharacteristically subdued black bowtie was straight on his shoulders.

He looked like a grown man, almost.

"You going to invite Kurt in or what?"

Blaine blinked, like the idea surprised him. "Are you- Okay. Kurt..?"

He looked back at the boy in the driver's seat, who shrugged. "Sure."

As the pair made their way into the kitchen, fingers entwined, James absolutely did not comment on the tiara, bright with rhinestones, perched at a jaunty angle on Kurt's head. However he couldn't resist saying "Nice kilt."

Kurt smiled nervously. "Thank you."

"Dad." Blaine was already back to frowning.

James raised his hands in surrender. "I mean it!" he protested. "I married your mother in a kilt."

"You did?"

Kurt turned to Blaine with a mischievous grin. "You never told me you had Scottish blood in you."

"We don't." Blaine replied, bemused. Then- "Kurt, neither do you."

Kurt adjusted his still-unmentioned tiara and said smugly "I know, but I do have exceptional legs."

James laughed. "That was my reasoning too. Carrie, Blaine's mom, she didn't really approve but Hell, I figured if she got to wear a big white dress the least I deserved was to wear a bit of a skirt. You two want cocoa or tea?"

*

When Blaine had finished saying goodbye to Kurt and returned indoors, James was ready to join Carrie in bed. Sleep. Sleep was calling, he _so_ wasn't sixteen and energetic anymore. Now Kurt had left, he had the chance to speak to Blaine as he had previously intended; to grill him about his obvious problem with his family, but now he found he didn't have the heart.

Since he'd come home, Blaine seemed much more like his old self. Still somewhat withdrawn and blunt but for the first time in a long time, James wasn't worried. Teenagers went through angsty phases. Cooper had. But he'd come out of that and gone back to being his regular old overbearing self. James could only hope that Blaine would do the same.

James paused in the living room doorway on his way upstairs. Blaine was in there still, sat in the armchair with his legs crossed like a yogi, texting somebody (probably Kurt). "Don't be up too late." He said.  
Blaine returned his smile for what felt like the first time In forever. "I won't. Night, Dad."

James was half way down the hallway before he heard Blaine call up to him "Dad?"

He paused. "Yeah?"

"Do you- I mean… Do you like Kurt then?"

James rubbed his tired eyes to stop them from closing. "Son, if he makes you happy, we can sell that damn Mercedes and you can use the money to get him a ring. Alright?"

A pause. Then "You mean that?"

James hesitated. "I mean, obviously to keep until you're both older because if there's one thing the world doesn't need it's more kids getting married before they're twenty but yes, I mean that. Goodnight, Blaine."

"Night, Dad."


End file.
